


Infected

by sketzocase



Category: Dark Wolverine (Comics), Wolverine (Comics), X-23 (Comic), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Fever, Hallucinations, Illness, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Made up virus, Medical Conditions, Medical Examination, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Procedures, Medical Professionals, Mild Smut, Nightmares, Overprotective Sister, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Sexually Transmitted Diseases, Sick Character, Temporary Blindness, but it’s not actually AIDS, family comedy, kinda dark- but nowhere near as dark as my other stuff, mention of aids, mention of non/con, not shown, over protective father, some slight mental instability, take that as you will
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 19:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15395586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sketzocase/pseuds/sketzocase
Summary: There’s a new illness that’s wiping out half the mutant populace. Getting it? Pretty much a death sentence. Luckily for most- it’s been contained to one single country. Madripoor. Unluckily for Daken- Madripoor is where he picked for an untimely vacation. The rest? Well.... let’s just say it’s going to be a very, very, VERY trying few months!





	Infected

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY! SO- I know, I know, I know. I need to update the rest of my shit. Haha. And I will- I swear on all that is holy- I will update soon. However... this little thing popped in my mind and will not leave me alone. 
> 
> So while I’m trying to update like fifty things- enjoy this little peace offering. Much feels. Much fluff. Family fluff. And some good ol’ Darkice thrown in to boot. 
> 
> Though seriously y’all, thank you so much for reading. I joked in the beginning of this note- but really. The fact that y’all stick with me though series periods of inactivity is amazing. I promise it will be worth it in the end! 
> 
> As for this fic, it’s a medical drama (sorta) with a lot of sickness. 
> 
> Mentions of diapering the sickly- not shown but talked about. (I didn’t want to put that in the tag becuase searching that tag will bring up a whole slew of shit you probably don’t want to see, haha.) Medications. Medical procedures. Basically all the shit you need to care for a sick person. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. (Again). Let me know what you think!
> 
> I rebooted my tumblr- same name as last time- however the asks are turned off (For mental health reasons) but if you want to follow news about updates and such or see some random art sometimes- give me a follow. I keep a few posts on hand about random updates and post random shit. 
> 
> Anywho, thanks for reading- enjoy!

A plague. I always joked and said that the world would be better with a plague. Too many people and all that. It seemed funny enough at the time.

Never once when I made that joke did I mean that I wanted to be one of the carriers of said plague.

With my healing factor- I honestly never even entertained the thought of it.

It was more of a wanting everyone else to get it and leave me the fuck alone sort of thing. Like I said- I never gave the idea that much of a thought. Not real consideration- at any rate.

It started off as a joke in my certain circles, as most serious things tend to do. “Use condoms or you’ll catch it!” Hahaha.

Then... people started catching it. Regenerators. Healers. Omega level mutants. No one was safe. No super powered being- that is. Humans are totally unaffected.

I saw several... let’s not say ‘friends’ but acquaintances- come down with it. Five to be exact. All men. Men I’d known for years. Men who I thought were invincible. One out of the five is still alive. Barely. His brain was basically liquified. He’s living his remaining years- however long that may be- in some hospice surrounded by the elderly, diapered, and spouting nonsense from severe brain trauma.

First the word around the block was that it was sent from god. Me- not believing in God- wanted a better answer. A lot of people did. There was no way it was an actual plague.

Some of my friends and I suggested that maybe it was man made. You know- like government produced? We figured there had to be a logical reason for it only attacking mutants.

No one could figure out exactly how it spread. Air borne was the running theory. Turns out- our little condom joke was more factual than we thought. Sexual contact. Body fluids. Several mutants got it from infected blood transfusions. Everyone was afraid it would switch to alternate means of infecting people. It never did.

Unlike other STD’s or STI’s this one could be exchanged through ANY body fluids. Sweat and spit included. Since the disease makes it’s host run dangerously high fevers- there’s a lot of sweat involved. It got to the point where you basically couldn’t touch anyone.

There were (And still are) rumors that there is a medication that can make the carrier non contagious. It won’t heal them- but it will make the disease unspreadable. Unfortunately- you have to have about 1.4 million dollars for even a single dose. Even I don’t have that much cash.  
So the disease went unchecked and unstopped.

People started lying to their sexual partners about having it- when it is in it’s early stages and others can’t really tell. They went around purposely infecting people.

Because only mutants are affected- officials did nothing about it. It’s perfectly legal. You can infect anyone you like. Literally.

The disease got the nickname (among many, many others) AIDS 2.0. It seems hellbent on eradicated the mutant populace. Babies born to mutant mothers either died days after delivery- killing the mother in the process- or suffered massive birth defects. People didn’t know what to do. It seemed- for a while- that the mortality rate was unbeatable. You got it? You died. Even if you were a healer or regenerator- you died. There was no escaping it.

It got so bad- so so so bad- that even I started to get worried.

Luckily- it never spread to the states. Unluckily- I found myself in the hotspot over seas. They contained it to one country and then shut down contact with the outside world so no one knew what was going on. Didn’t want to effect the tourist industry- after all.

Once the disease spread- once it was weaponized to it’s fullest potential- we (mutants) couldn’t leave the country. We were stopped at airports, docks, train stations. They have these scanners on all public transportation that scan for any trace of the x-gene. There is no getting it by them. That scanner goes off and you’re taken into custody and sent back to where you came from.

Me- being a mutant, male, and bisexual- I had no chance of leaving the country. I was quarantined within the first month. I showed no signs of illness. I showed no signs of weakness. I tried getting through an airport and the scanner went off. They told me to go home and not try again.

I honestly didn’t know what to do. Everyone was dying. Everyone. All I wanted was to go home.

I hate this country. I hate these people. I hate the government.

I hate everything.

Fuck me for trying to take a measly vacation.

Fuck the boyfriend who pulled me over the sea to begin with.

He’s a mutant and also has the disease- not that I care. We broke up after he did some shady shit I couldn’t agree with. Particularly to me.

I got scared a few months in- I can admit that. I was scared. People were dying in droves. There was nothing that could be done.

The worst part of it was that the disease literally drives them insane at the end. That’s when you know death is near. You lose your fucking mind completely.

It’s a scary thing. One you don’t want to go through personally.

I even started using condoms- which is beyond weird for me- I hate those things.

When my boyfriend got it- I tried (very out of character for me) to be there for him. I thought it couldn’t be as bad as they were making it out to be.

It was. It was more awful than I can imagine.

Well- than I COULD imagine. At this point? I hold no disillusions as to how bad it can get.

When more and more mutants came down- worried it would spread to humans- the government delegated us to parts of the city. Like slums. Very scary.

“Cities of death” is the nickname that got coined. It didn’t matter how much money we had. What connections we had. What we did in our lives- if you were mutant, you were branded. Diseased even if you weren’t. You were automatically a health risk.

They scanned everyone in the city.

If you didn’t come in for a scan- the police showed up at your home, barged in, and scanned you against your will. If that scanner went off? You were told to pack a bag , you were given about ten minutes, you were cuffed, and you were taken to the delegated mutant housing whether you wanted to go or not.

The cities didn’t have enough housing for everyone. People were waiting for the death of others to get housing. It quickly devolved into them ‘helping’ the sick along their path to the afterlife just so the living had a roof over their heads. ‘Angels of death’- they were called. God help you if they showed up at your door.

Needless to say- homelessness skyrocketed. I, myself, was homeless.

The police dropped you off and left. Housing was left for you to find on your own.

It was, to put lightly, impossible.

Everyone spent their first two weeks (at least) in the streets.

I finally made contact with some people in the states who were going to smuggle me out. It took a lot of work to find someone up for the job. Most mutants wouldn’t touch me with a ten foot pole. Even though I assured them (countless times) That I wasn’t contagious. That I wasn’t sick.

A day before my contact was set to collect me- I started feeling... off. I figured it was drug related and paid it no mind. Four hours after my first dizzy spell- I was rushed to a hospital and told that I had a 12% chance of survival. Due to my healing factor. It was still pretty much a death sentence.

I had the cash to try and head it off- but that quickly disappeared.

My contact backed out. Even though I tried to lie and say I wasn’t sick. They could tell. I was on my own.

That on it’s own was depressing.

Two days after getting out of the hospital I suffered a collapsed lung. Died for about five hours.

At that point I put all my cash towards medication.

Turns out the medication was a fraud. It was basically just painkillers being pushed to calm down hysteria and make the passing easier on mutants so there were less incidents of raging dying lunatics causing mass distraction in fits of hysteria and fear.

The down side to THAT was that the pills were crazy addictive.

So it was possible to end up dying, homeless, broke, and addicted to drugs.

Three months into the epidemic and half the city was dead. They torched entire buildings full of corpses. The only good news was that there wasn’t as big of a homeless problem.

IE- I got the last available shitty apartment. I had to sleep with the landlord a total of six times- do some really disgusting stuff- to get a one bedroom home with a broken stove, a leaky roof, a bug problem, and no bed. No furniture at all- if we’re being honest. I didn’t even have money for rent. The landlord was human so was in no danger of being infected. The downside to that was that he has very little compassion to when I’m feeling ill and I’ve basically signed my body over to him in the name of housing. Most nights I pass out and don’t really mind. He fucks me and lets me sleep. Those nights are the only night I sleep on a mattress. So it’s not all bad.

I had gotten to the point were I spent all day pressed up against my air conditioner with a bucket of to catch my vomit/ liquified organs and a bottle of pain killers.

I would lose my sight most days, suffer insane hallucinations, starve, seize, and vomit. That was a typical day.

The hallucinations are somewhat odd. You can never tell what you’re going to see.

The doctors don’t know what causes them.

The running theory is the damage to the brain.

A few doctors add a regime of psych meds to the painkillers- trying to bring peace to their infected patients. However, the psych meds are more expensive than the painkillers. It’s almost impossible to pay for them since the companies sensed opportunity and hiked the prices up. Something as simple as a fifteen day supply of Prozac will cost you upwards of 5k. Whereas the painkillers are a measly 30 dollars for fifty. It’s understandable that most go for the painkillers and forget the psych meds.

There’s simply no hope left for any of us. We don’t have a prayer. As soon as you show those first symptoms, you’re told to get your shit in order. Make funeral arrangements, make peace with your loved ones, and make peace with the deity of your choosing.

A few days ago, I contacted a doctor again. He told me we were coming to a end and to get my affairs in order- which I knew was coming. To others that would be a shock. But me? I’m tired. I’m sick. I hurt 24 hours a day. I’m ready.

I don’t want to die in a fucking slum in the middle of a city of a dead people. I shouldn’t have come here in the first place. But I did. And here I am. And now it’s ending.

My slim shot at survival was cut to a mere 2%.

Even my powers can’t save me.

I called Laura and explained everything to her. Told her goodbye. Told her- shockingly- that I loved her and wished her well.

She was... upset. But understanding.

She asked if there was anything I wanted done.

I don’t know if it’s because I was scared, or drugged, or feverish- but I told her to tell our father... that I was sorry. I wouldn’t tell him in person- but I asked her to pass along the message. They said to make peace- right? That’s a step towards making peace. I felt better when I got off the phone with her.

Truth be told- I’ll miss my sister.

My little one too.

I told her to tell Gabby that I would miss her as well. And then I gave Laura what little possessions I had left in the states. It’s not much- I had to sell everything to try and get medical help. But I gave what I had left in storage to Laura in hopes that she could get some cash or something out of it. I was trying to be a good big brother- after all. I think I succeeded.

Laura was sad- I could tell. But she didn’t cry. That’s why I knew it was okay to call her. If she had cried- god, I don’t know what I would have done.

To be honest- I probably would have been a little tearful as well.

That’s exactly why I didn’t ask to speak to Gabby. I know she wouldn’t have been able to control herself. Then I wouldn’t have been able to control myself.

And I promised myself I wouldn’t get emotional over this.

Even when I’m in crippling pain. No emotions.

Word of our ‘problem’ across the sea has spread to the states. The heroes and politicians alike are kicking it around their various circles on whether or not to send aid. For people like me- we’ll be long dead before they ever make a decision one way or the other.

Like any sane mutant is going to step foot in these cities.

At this point- I’m the last person in my apartment building.

Last I heard- all persons infected were contained to this part of the city. They’re dying off- taking the disease with them.

If anything- I think this was a trial run.

They’ll find a way to make the disease more contagious and sell it to other countries to take care of their mutant populace’s as well. I guarantee it.

The doctor called a few hours ago- he checks in twice a day, I guess seeing if I’ve bit the bullet yet. To be honest- I’m grateful for the interaction. As sad as it is- it means at least someone cares.

I reported my symptoms, got off the phone, and laid back down on the floor.

Today’s not been a good day.

Granted- none of these days are good days.

But today? Today is the worst.

Things are... fuzzy.

The world is holding a green tint to it.

Honestly- it’s hard to describe.

There’s a man standing to my right- watching. He’s not real- I’m 80% sure. A woman is seated on the floor to my left, watching the window and commenting on the pile of dead bodies in the street. Those? Those I’m sure are real.

The hallucinations have gotten bad here lately. That and I’ve been majorly depressed. Which I guess- for a dying man- is normal. My only bright thought is that soon- it will be over.

I lean my head to throw up again- feeling the intense coiling pain of yet another organ shutting down. Feels like... my liver? Oh yes. That’s definitely my liver. Fuck. There’s goes my hope of eating a little something.

I throw up again- bloody and black.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

My ‘company’ doesn’t take note of it.

I pop another pill. My twelfth of the last two hours.

It’s not like it can harm my liver if my liver’s already failing- right?

I’ll give them this- the pills do make the whole situation go down easier. At least they soothe me into a calmer state of acceptance. And really? That’s all I could really ask for- isn’t it? To be calm. I asked to not be emotional- being high really does put a damper on emotions. Really it’s win win for me. Sure- I’m dying. But I get to die high off my ass. That? That’s a way to go.

Time crawls by. I hear the silence of the city.

Rain pelts down my grimy windows. What a view to have on my last days on earth.

The fever that plagues me about four times a day is back in full swing. I can barely see.

The room is both hot and cold at the same time. My skin crawls with a million little invisible insects. I can feel my claws ache inside my body. This is... different. Different than the other times. Something is... off.

Maybe... maybe it’s time.

Maybe it’s finally time.

Maybe it’s over.

I lean my head into my bucket and wait. A black out? Death? It’s all a surprise. What will happen? Will this be it? Is it over?

Is it... over?

The pain?

Is this it?

Do I want this to be it?

What... god. I don’t know what I want at this point.

Earlier I was certain I craved death.

Now? Now that I’m facing it? I’m not sure. I’m honestly not sure.

And that? That scares me more than dying. (Not that dying isn’t scary on it’s own right- of course)

Puke- blood. Piss- more blood. Puke again.

My vision fades to black. My head throbs. I have to puke again but can no longer see the bucket- so I try to remember the general direction it was in and puke there. It doesn’t sound like it made it in the bucket. If I survive tonight- I’ll have to clean it up in the morning.

Not that I think I’ll be surviving tonight.

God I hurt.

Everything... hurts.

I lay down on the floor- reaching my hand out blindly for the cool surface of the air conditioner.

About five hours later- things take a decided worse swing. This time? This time I know it’s over. Without a doubt. This will be it.

My mouth is bloody. My sight is gone. My nose picks up the stench of body odor and shit- a nice addition to my lovely graceful state, I’m sure.

I close my eyes for what I’m sure will be the last time.

Death. Four months in the making. What a way to go.

————————————-

“Eww. Gross.” A woman makes a gagging noise.

Voices?

Voice...Voices.

Not dead?

I’m... alive?

“He’s literally covered.” The woman continues.

“Nothing a bath won’t solve.” A man says simply.

There’s pressure on my face. “Needs a shave too.” Another man adds.

“Never seen his hair this long.” The first man says.

“Can we at least change his pants before we put him on the jet?” The woman asks. “Seriously? He is ripe.”

“Yea.” The first man says. “Yea- we’ll get him washed and changed before we move him.”

So many voices.

“And Madripoor’s government is just gonna let him go?” The second man asks.

“Yep. SHIELD ordered it, the x-men are enforcing it, and we’ve got the CIA for back up.”

Someone whistles. “That’s a lot of manpower.”

“Helps to have connections.” The first voice chuckles.

“How contagious is he at this point?” The woman says. “Like... can we touch him? Should we be wearing hazmat suits?”

“Eh. He’s not.” Pressure on my stomach now. “Not after what Hank gave him.”

Hank?

I don’t know a Hank.

“The medication stops the spread of disease.” Another man says. “I’m leaving fifty cases with the local hospital. It should stamp out the disease’s spread. Maybe save some lives in the process.”

“So... you came up with a cure?” The woman asks.

“Sadly, no.” The man says. “I am a few weeks away from that.”

“But...”

“I came up with a way to slow the diseases progression.” The man says. “And there’s a 50% chance that will be enough to heal regenerators. But even if it does- IF it does- there is still a very long and dangerous road ahead of them.”

“Gotcha.” The first man says. “Long road. May have cured him. Good to go.”

The group falls silent.

“Think he’s pissing blood.” The second man to speak says.

“Can’t really control themselves at this point.” The first says.

“No- I mean like right now. As we’re speaking. He’s pissing blood.”

There’s a small pause. “Would you look at that?” The voice says in amusement.

“We’ll have to do something to keep him clean on the jet.” The woman says.

“Doc suggested diapering him if we want to move him any distance and keep our vehicles clean.”The first man says. “We could give it a shot.”

“Yea- okay.” Someone scoffs. “You gonna change him?” The second man says. “Because he’s not gonna like that.”

There’s a chuckle. “Look at his arms.” The voice says. “He can’t move them on his own. There’s no way he’ll be able to keep himself clean.”

“So you gonna change him?” The voice repeats. “Cause we ain’t touching him.”

“I mean... if I gotta.” The voice says.

Change me?  
Diapers?

None of this sounds appealing to me.

I don’t know these people- but they seem to know me.

I’m not... stressed about it.

Didn’t they say they might be able to cure me?

If they can cure me..... then I can trust them.

Besides- at least one of them sounds familiar.

It’s good to go with familiar voices.

So far they’ve done nothing to hurt me. If anything- they’ve done something to make me feel better. I still feel like death- don’t get me wrong- but it’s a different kind of death at the moment. It’s... once again, hard to describe.

“Did his doctor clear him for transport?” The woman asks.

“Far as his doctor knows of right now- he’s dead.” The first man says.

“Riggght. And you’re going to....?”

“Take him home, get him in a hospital- an actual hospital- and see what the damage is. Make up our mind from there. Docs are saying their minds go pretty fast. If that’s the case and it’s as far along as they say it is- he’ll need some kind of supervision.”

Supervision?

“Go ahead and get him clean- as clean as possible. While he isn’t contagious anymore per se- we still don’t need to chance infecting someone else.” Someone orders. “I’ll go to the store in the city and see if I can find some materials for transporting him. Once he’s clean- start the IV. I can already tell the poor man is dehydrated. I’m sure he’ll appreciate something that will actually help him.”

“Thanks Hank.” Someone pats my right thigh. “Look at all these pill bottles.”

“The pills help, right?” The woman asks.

“They don’t do shit but calm them down.” The man says. “I’ll get him some real pills when we’re back in the states. Laura says he’s out of cash. I’m sure he won’t mind me stepping in.”

Stepping in?

Laura?

Who did... who did she call?

She didn’t say she was calling anyone.... and it’s not like her to interfere with my personal business.

God- I’m so tired.

I can’t even begin to figure this out.

Maybe... yes. I’ll just let it go for now.

Like the man said- I don’t have any money.

I don’t have a way to get back to the states.

This is an opportunity to have help doing both.

It would be stupid to turn it down.

There’s silence again. “This is barely an apartment. I don’t even think he has a tub.” The woman says.

“Does he have a hose?” The first man asks.

Hose?

I... yes. Yes- I do. I have a garden hose attached to the faucet outside. Technically it’s my neighbors- but they died three days ago. So... they weren’t there to protest me taking it. The water from the hose is cleaner than the water in the house. When I can manage it- I drag myself outside and drink from it. It’s an idea I actually got from the deceased neighbor. He was a smart man.

“Hose?”

“Garden hose? I’ll wash him down outside.”

“Logan.... he won’t like that.”

L... Logan?

As in....

Oh hell.

X-men.

These are x-men.

Laura called our father.

Fuck.

“What? It’s not like there’s anyone around to see him. Besides- I’ll bet he’ll do anything to not smell like shit anymore.” He pats my thigh again. “Ain’t that right, squirt?”

I can’t see. I can’t nod. I can’t react.

“Right.” The man says. “Now... let’s get you undressed....” The room starts to get cooler as he pulls my clothing off.

Someone hisses. “Look at that.... mark.” The woman says. “What is that?”

“Death track- they’re calling it.” The man says. “Veins are hardening and turning black- usually leading to the heart. Causes strokes and seizures.” There’s a pause again. “Holy fuck that’s a lot of shit.”

“Bloody.” Someone says.

“Yea- he shits, pisses, and pukes blood.” The man says. “That’s what he told Laura.”

My legs are pried apart- causing me to groan.

“Woah woah woah.” Someone says quickly. “What’re you doing?”

“Taking his temperature.” The man says easily.

“In his mouth?”

“Mouths probably full of blood and sore.” He says. “So...”

“So... you’re gonna take it...?” The second man asks cautiously.

“You don’t like- don’t look.” He says simply. “Pass me that tub of Vaseline from the bag.”

I’m very glad I can’t see right now.

I’m not completely all here- but I know the distinct discomfort of having your temperature taken rectally.

There’s a small wait- about three minutes- before the thermometer is removed.

“104.” He says. “Toss this thermometer. We’ll get another.”

My legs are closed again.

“There’s more tracks on his... ya know.” A woman says.

“Yea... not really tryin to see my kid’s junk.”

“I mean... you just shoved something up his ass.” Another man says. “Think that ship has sailed.”

“Yea.... taking care of him is gonna get a little personal.” The man- my father- says.“If things work out like I think they will- I’ll get him a nurse.”

Hands are placed under my shoulders and under my knees a second before I’m lifted into the air. “God he’s light.” The arms holding me tense for a second. “Come on kiddo.” He says. “Let’s get you clean.” We’re moving- making me nauseous instantly.

The air gets hot as the back door is opened.

“Logan.... are you really gonna hose him off?” Someone has followed us outside.

“I mean... yea.” I’m sat down in the hot grass.

“He’s gonna need soap.” A woman joins us.

“Good idea Kitty. Go get some from the bag.” Logan says.

‘Kitty’ disappears.

If I were more in my right mind- I might question what’s going on here. As is? I’m just glad someone’s helping me clean off. I haven’t been able to bathe in two weeks.

“Here we go kid. Nice and cold.” Water hits my chest almost pleasantly. He sprays me down for a good three minutes before the back door opens again.

“Soap, wash cloth, and a bottle of shampoo.” Kitty says. “Please wash him good.”

“Got it.” Three more minutes of spraying and I’m being lathered up. It’s not my soap. It smells distinctly feminine. Not that I particularly mind. Anything is better than smelling like shit. “Good.” Logan says. “You’re doing great kid.”

Great. I’m doing great. I... don’t know why but I like the praise.

“You tell me if you have to go the bathroom.” Logan says. “I’ll try to get you a toilet.”

Yea... good luck with that. I can’t even get me to a toilet.

He lathers my hair and rinses it carefully before turning off the hose. “I don’t suppose you have any towels.” He says.

I give the smallest shake of my head.

“It’s cool.” He says. “We’ll use one of the blankets we brought.” He taps my shoulder. “Lay here for a second- okay?” And he’s gone.

God. My father.

Laura called my father.

I’m on my death bed- and he’s here.

This is not going to be the peaceful passing I had hoped for.

I try to think things along that line but my head hurts and my mind is moving slowly. I end up staring straight ahead- getting small glimpses through my failing eyesight of a what looks like a tree. Or a man in a green cloak. But I think it’s more likely to be a tree.

The back door opens and I’m wrapped in something soft and fuzzy.

“Hank’s back.” Logan says. “You’re not gonna like this next part.... so we’re gonna knock you out- okay?”

Knock me out?

“Shh, shh. It’s okay.” Logan shushes. “It’s just.... you’re a little prideful. Being this dependent- even if it’s only for a few hours- is gonna drive you crazy.” He chuckles. “And to be perfectly honest, kid? Your brains pretty much mush already. You don’t need the extra help.” he picks me up again, carrying me inside and laying me on the floor. “Got everything, Hank?” Logan asks.

“Yes.” The man says. “Give him this first.”

“What is it?” Logan asks.

“Anti nausea medication.” Hank says. “Incase he wakes up in route.”

“Gotcha.” Logan rubs something wet down my arm. “Sharp sting, kid.”

There’s a small pinch- really nothing compared to the pain I’m already feeling.

“Good.” Hank says. “Now give him this- it’ll put him to sleep for about half a day.”

Logan makes a noise of affirmation and I’m stuck again.

“And finally- this.” Hank says. “It’s a stronger painkiller than what he’s been on.”

The last thing I feel before blacking out is another pinch.

“Now,” Hank says. “These are the materials we’re going to use to keep him clean.” My hearing is blacking out. “Make sure he’s completely out before dressing him. We honestly don’t want to put him in more duress than we have to. And honestly? Your son’s as stubborn as you are. This is going to be hard on him.”

“Gotcha.” Logan says again. “We’ll let everything set in.”

“Good call.” Kitty says.

Everything goes peaceful as I black out completely.

It’s... nice.

————————-

The next thing I feel is movement.

However, it doesn’t feel like transportation movement. More like... being on a cart.

“Wolverine’s kid.” Someone says through my fuzzy hearing.

“Oh yea?”

“Got So9.”

“Damn. And he’s alive?”

“Barely. Look at the tracks.”

The other man whistles. “Damn. Chest, arms, privates- this dude is as good as dead.”

“Try telling that to Wolverine.” The first man snorts.

“He’s the first patient to be treated in the US.” The man says. “Hope it turns out well.”

“Hmm... I don’t think it’s so much treating as making his passing easier.” The man says.

“Damn.” The second man says. “Poor guy.”

“Yep.” Someone pats my shoulder. “Let’s get him in the bed.” He says. “He’s so doped up right now I doubt he feels anything- but go gentle on him.”

Please. Please- go gentle on me.

I’m lifted from one surface to a much softer one.

“Doc is going to talk to him when he wakes up.” The first man says. “We’re to guard the door until she gets here.”

“Guard the door from who, exactly?” The second man asks.

“Eh. Bunch of people don’t want him treated here. They think killing him would be a better option. Logan wants to make sure they don’t get in. Not that they’d make it very far, anyway. Between the x-men and the avengers they’ve got posted up in the hospital- they wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“They really want him dead that badly?”

The other man chuckles. “You don’t watch the news much- do you?”

“Eh. Not my cup of tea.”

“I figured.” He laughs again. “Help me get these IV’s in him.”

I don’t feel much- so I don’t know if they were inserted or not. But when the man claps his hands together- I figure they’re done.

“Tell the nurse to call his dad.” The first man says. “He can’t stay in this hospital. Think the doc has him going into home care.”

“Home care?”

“Mm hmm. Dad thinks it’d be... gentler if he died in the house.”

“Damn. That sucks.”

That does suck.

I don’t want to die under supervision. I’ll have to lodge a formal complaint and tell them I’d rather die... anywhere else. The side of the road. Under a bridge. In a crappy hotel room.

Literally anywhere but with him.

The men exit the room- which I still can’t see- leaving me to my own devices.

The only real thought on my mind is... how am I not dead yet?

I was certain yesterday would be it.

I could have bet money on yesterday being my last day in this mortal coil.

I’m never wrong about things like that.

What did they do to me?

I doze off for what has to be a meager 30 seconds. It’s like as soon as I close my eyes, someone is standing over me- touching my face.

“Looks good.” I recognize my father’s voice.

“Thought he’d like a shave.” That one I don’t recognize.

“Hair looks good too.” Logan says approvingly.

“Yea... that took a little longer. Mohawks are hard.”

“I was half hoping you’d just shave it off.” Logan says teasingly.

“I know how important his hair is to him.” The second man says. “Didn’t want to piss him off and have him haunt me.”

Logan makes a small noise I can’t interrupt. “He’s not going to haunt anyone.” He says stubbornly. “Cause he ain’t dying.”

“Logan...”

“Drake- he ain’t dying.” Logan presses. “I promise you that. Kid’s going pull through.”

Nice to know someone has confidence in my abilities. Even though- admittedly- I don’t.

“We’ll see.” Logan’s companion says.

“We’ll see- my ass.” Logan snorts. “Kid’s living. I promise it.”

“We’ll see.” The man repeats.

“Go get his doctor.” Logan orders. “Kid’s waking up.”

Nice of him to notice.

Logan’s friend leaves- closing a loud door behind him.

For a minute I think Logan’s going to stand there in silence. When he inhales- I know I’m wrong.

“Not going to lie you- boy.” He says softly. “You’re pretty fucked up.”

I can’t see him. I can’t see anything.

“Doc’s are giving you all they got.” He continues. “We put about 1 million into it already.”

Fuck. That is a lot of money.

“Needless to say- you aren’t in on your own anymore.”

I..... don’t know how to respond.

“You shoulda called.” He says. “Four months ago- at that. Calling your sister like that? As you’re dying? Do you know what that did to her? She was in hysterics when she got off the phone with you. Do you know how often I’ve seen Laura that upset?” He waits for a second. “Never.” He says. “I have NEVER seen her that upset. You shoulda called. I know we’re not on the best terms- I get that. But a simple “hey dad- I’m broke, I’m sleeping with my landlord for a place to live, and I’m dying from the biggest mutant killer known to man” woulda done it.”

What’s he want? An apology?

“Let me tell you before the doc gets in here- it don’t look good. Your brain is swollen, your organs are failing daily, you’re constantly dehydrated, you have internal bleeding, your muscles are literally producing a toxin that’s seeping into your blood stream... it’s bad kid.”

Fuck. I didn’t know it was that bad.

“But you’ve got backup now.” He says gently. “I enlisted some friends to help look after you. You’re going to be good to those friends- got me? No fighting. No bitching. If I or any of those people say to do something- you do it. Got it?”

If I’m that bad off and he’s offering assistance that may just well save me.... I don’t really have a choice- do I?

So I nod.

“Good.” Logan says. “Now, we’re gonna call the doc in here. She’s gonna say a lot of big words that sound really scary- but don’t worry. Okay? No worries. We got medical tech she couldn’t even begin to imagine. As long as you’re with the x-men- you’re gonna be okay. Okay?”

Fuck it all.

I nod again.

The door opens up and a woman clears her throat. “Doctor Gettings.” She introduces herself. “I won’t bother shaking your hand.” She says teasingly. “You can’t see to grab mine.”

She’s got a point.

“Now.” She says. “You have So9.” She says. “It’s been discovered to be a sort of chemical virus that was spread through a singular country by an unknown source. It gets it’s name from it’s project number.” She says.

Fuck. So it is manmade. Go figure. A lot of dead men owe me money. Too bad I never got to collect.

“This virus starts in the stomach, spreads through the organs and blood stream, and ends up in the brain. It turns your own body against you- basically. The brain swelling is the last step before death. Which is why- theoretically- all the patients go insane.”

Good to know.

“I won’t sugar coat this.” She says. “The only reason you are still alive is your powers. Your powers and your father’s interference. Had you not been found when you were and given some advanced medical assistance- you would be dead.”

God I’m tired.

“Your father is in charge now.” She says. “He calls the shots. And frankly- he’s the only thing keeping you alive. Don’t piss him off.”

Because I’m sooo good at that.

“There is honestly nothing this hospital can do for you.” She says. “Nothing we can manage. You are in far more danger here than you are literally anywhere else. There are a large number of people- humans and mutants alike- that want us just to euthanize you. Like a dog.”

I nod. I get that- oddly enough.

“But- you have an unusually perk to your case.” She says. “Connections.”

My father.

My sisters.

Fuck.

“And those connections are not going to let anything bad happen to you.” She says.

“That’s right.” Logan says. “You’re going to be comfortable and cared for.”

I nod again.

“I will not lie to you.” The woman says. “Survival rate for you currently is about 40%.”

That’s way better than what I was given a few days ago. I almost feel like smiling. Almost.

“That rate will go up as the days progress.” She says. “If you make it to the end of the week- I’m guessing you’ll be at 53%. And so on and so forth.”

I can survive.

This... is good news.

“I’ll turn you over to his father and a private doctor.” She says. “Right dad?”

“Right.” He says. “We got a doctor and some treatments we can give him.”

“Good.” She says. “Whenever your transport is ready- he’s as road ready as he’s going to get.”

“Got it.” Logan says.

The woman claps her hands together. “I wish you the best.” She says. “I hope you have a speedy recovery.”

Speedy recovery my ass. I think this is going suck more than she thinks it is.

She exits the room and Logan starts messing with my IV’s.

“Pain, water... don’t know what this one does.” He mumbles. “We should get you to the shitter.” He says. “It’s not a long drive back to the school.... but still. You should go.”

Go? I can’t even move.

“That is unless you want to be diapered again.” He says. “Ya know- whatever your preference is.”

God. Did they really do that?

A groan escapes my lips.

“Yea... didn’t think so.” He laughs. “Let’s get you unplugged.”

It takes a few painful minutes, but soon he’s got me sitting upright. I still can’t see worth shit and his support is the only thing keeping me up.

“Lean with me.” He says, his hand on my back guiding me to the side of the bed. “Feet on the floor.” He coaxes. The floor is cold underfoot. “Try putting some pressure on them.” He continues. it hurts more than I can articulate to him. “Good.” He praises. “Now stand up.” I am shaking with exertion by the time I make it to standing. “Good.” He says gently, wrapping an arm around my waist to keep me up, placing his other by my right arm. “Lean on me.” He says. I follow his instructions. “Good.” He praises again. “Take a step.” That hurts and I have to stop moving. “Another step.” He says. I try again. “Another step.” He repeats.

We keep this up for the longest ten minutes of my life.

He rolls up whatever I’m wearing (I’m guessing some kind of gown) and helps me sit down.

“Do your business.” He says. “I’ll be over by the door.”

It’s awkward to say the least. More so when the pain starts (which it always does when I’m trying to use the toilet). Eventually my head slumps forward and I start to fall. Logan is quick to catch me.

“Does that mean you’re done?” He asks teasingly.

If I had more energy- I’d give him the finger as is.... I just settle for what I hope is a good glare.

“Stop glaring at the wall.” He teases. “It didn’t do anything to you.”

Fuck.

“I guess asking you to clean yourself is a little much- huh?”

I sigh.

“It’s cool.” He shushes. “I got ya.”

Luckily- I don’t have to suffer that particular embarrassment as my mind goes completely blank and I black out before he can start.

At least- in the very least- I didn’t have to sit through that particular degrading moment.

And I thought there’d be no silver lining with this.


End file.
